


lo/hi.

by rnanfarrw



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, with background Lovett as per usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rnanfarrw/pseuds/rnanfarrw
Summary: jon and tommy act on 10+ years of tension, there are consequences. 9 months of them, at least.





	lo/hi.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a slow burn, so be prepared. keep it safe. blah blah.
> 
> i am working slowly but surely on this. there might be another chapter when i'm not working so much.

Tommy’s spending his day sick, utterly gross and he’s already wanting to go home as soon as he’s hit the Crooked Office. He’s not talking much, but when Lovett goes to his desk in the Founder’s office, he’s noticing the quiet behavior immediately. “Are you… _okay_?” he’s sliding La Croix to Tommy, but he’s shoving it away immediately.

“I’m fine. I just am feeling a little green.”

“That’s not… **just a little green**. This is like a spectrum of feeling like shit here, you’re just not paying attention to the side of spectrum where you lie upon ‘looks like shit’ because boy...” Lovett is gesticulating wildly at this, but Tommy eyes him. “‘M fine.”

By the time that Jon arrives to the office, Tom can hardly even look at him and he’s trying to stifle the need to be so nervous. _Fuck Jon, we don’t need protection, want to feel you_ is just kinda playing into his head and there is a drop in his stomach. He knows why he’s sick and he can’t bring himself to tell Favs right now, not at this present time.

Nails dig into his thigh, trying to tell himself to shove it down and there is nothing but bile rising into his mouth that’s holding. He doesn’t want Jon to see him this sick, trying to keep it back. It was just a tick, holding back how he felt. This had to just be a fling to Favreau, nothing much. After years of build up, just that. Tommy kept telling himself that until he rose from his desk to say something to Favreau, but it turned into horribly toned conversation.

Jon speaks up after and is sideeying Tommy. “You seem kinda jumpy and sick, do you want to go home?”

“No, I don’t wanna fucking go home!” he shoots out, realizing what he said and he’s suddenly feeling the regret. Jon can see how he’s regretting it and reached out for Tommy’s hand and Tom is pulling away, not wanting him to feel bad for him.

When he does eventually cave into the idea of going home, Lucca is waiting for him at the door with a wagging tail and a watchful eye. She can tell something is wrong with her owner, but he’s slugging a plastic bag with multiple pregnancy tests that he dreads taking and a stomach that tells him the only thing he can really keep down is cheese and water. _Oh my god, I need you so fucking much_. It’s like he can’t stop reliving the moment that brought him into the very moment he’s carrying a grocery bag of tests and groans.

Lucca is perched outside of her dad’s bathroom door and yips when she hears him yelling loudly, unable to catch the tone of which this sound was… she began to hop around and bark excitedly. “Go away, Lucs,” is all he can manage to say, voice raspy. “Daddy is in trouble, buddy.”

Tommy puts off telling Jon, he’s got a small little bump by the time that it’s revealed, not by Tom, but by accident. He’s got himself hidden under the grey Friend of the Pod sweatshirt in summer.

“Jesus christ, Tom. It’s 100 outside and you’re jacking our AC up as high as it can, making sure we’re at least -10 in here. It’s like Oslo all over,” Jon is complaining and Lovett’s shooting them both looks as Pundit crawls up into his lap. “Lovett is thinking the same thing!” When Jon sees Tommy reach to pick Lucca up, he sees Tommy’s bump and he’s shooing off Lovett and turns to Tommy. “You’re… I….”

Tommy is feeling his heartbeat in his chest, it’s almost thrumming so much that it’s physically hurting now. His nerves are shot, now he wants to cry. “You never told me.” Jon says and he knows. He just… he _knows_. “I am so sorry. I never thought you being sick would that I- fuck, Tommy. Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon Favreau feels like a heel, that he never thought of it. It was a forgotten thought to himself if Tommy even had the gene for this, but. He did. Or well, they know now.

“I’m a couple months. Not even my mother knows. Lovett knows because he saw me hunched over puking with this pooch i’ve got  hanging out and yeah. So. Yeah. Yeah- it’s _yeah_.” Favreau can barely even fathom the conversation. It’s echoing in his brain, telling him that he’s fucked up missing at least the first month or two not realizing what was happening. Fuck. Fuck. It took one night with Tommy after a build of 10+ years and... there they stood at Crooked. Tommy's a couple months _at least_. Christ.


End file.
